


Searching for Home

by odyssey1007



Category: When Calls the Heart (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drama, F/M, Intrigue, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odyssey1007/pseuds/odyssey1007
Summary: Caroline Greenwood is on the run from her past. Her next stop is Coal Valley. Will she find the peace she's looking for, or will she run again? How will her presence impact those who live there?Some familiar scenes starting from season 1 as a base for the timeline, but mostly new scenes between those we've seen on the show.
Relationships: Elizabeth Thatcher/Jack Thornton
Kudos: 1





	Searching for Home

**Author's Note:**

> I've written lots of fics before but this is the first I've ever posted. I recently watched season 1-6 on Netflix and fell in love with the characters. That little plot line in season 5 threw me for a loop though, so this might be my way of fixing that. Enjoy!

Another month, another town. The wagon had been rolling for a few hours now, after picking her up from the side of the road. Sun blazing overhead typical for August, sweat trickled down her back and every bump, every jolt, shook her very bones. She untangled her limbs and stretched on her bed of hay. Her meagre belongings, a battered but sturdy saddle bag and upholstered holdall that had seen better days, bounced in the dry grass beside her. The driver hummed under his breath and she hastily checked her pockets for the familiar clink of coins. It was unusual and oh so unfortunate she had fallen asleep, but the continuous slog of walking had taken its toll. Her coins still in place though, she relaxed. Evidently there were still some good people left in the world.

When her destination finally appeared on the horizon, she was sat up next to the driver. The pair of horses drawing the wagon worked in tandem, and she occupied herself watching the muscles in their backs tense and relax, tense, and relax. The movement stilled, and thanking the farmer for his generosity, she retrieved her luggage and climbed down.

The town was still a short walk away, so she gripped her bags firmly, and with determined footsteps trudged along the main road. In the beating heat, the distance seemed to take forever, but it was no time at all she was amongst the buildings of Coal Valley.

The sound of frantic horses' hooves reached her ears, and she barely had time, nor energy, to leap out the way as the stagecoach came rattling past. Said transport was followed at a much slower pace by a singular horse, a well-dressed lady astride. She noted with confusion the North Western Mounted Police colours on the saddlecloth and picked up her pace to follow into the main street.

She had barely taken an additional step to round the corner, when there was a loud crash, followed by screaming, both human and equine. Dropping her bags at the side of the road, she picked up her skirts and ran. Turning the corner revealed a scene of chaos. The stagecoach had overturned, seemingly having taken the corner onto the main street far too fast. Townsfolk were flooding into the street to help, as the horses panicked, struggling to their feet, and attempting to flee. A mounted policeman was attempting to scale the sideways coach, only as it shifted, the coach horses straining against their leather harness.

A split-second decision, and she ran to join the chaos. Even as the stagecoach slid along the ground, the weakened wood cracking from the load, the Mountie remained perched on top, attempting to open the door. By now the highborn lady had dismounted her horse, and stood shocked with another lady, arms around each other. Wishing to God she had arrived any other day, she clambered around snapping wood and flailing hooves, setting to work on the many buckles and loops holding the harness together.

The hitch finally gave way, ricocheting into the left horse. It panicked, rearing up, and the Mountie atop lurched alarmingly to the side as the coach buckled. Hands held up to placate, she abandoned her work on the harness and set to soothing the horse. She went slowly and carefully, rubbing her hands from its neck to its face. Pulling her headscarf from her hair, she blindfolded the horse, it calming as its world plunged into darkness. Encouraging it to the ground, the harness slackened, the stagecoach steadied, and she let loose a huge sigh of relief.

A sickening crack of wood giving way had her jumping to her feet, but it was only the dark-haired Mountie finally prising the door open. Another man, dressed in the same red jacket and Stetson was pulled from within, followed by an older gentleman. As they were helped to the ground, she finished removing the harness, encouraged the left horse to his feet and led them a few metres away. The crisis apparently averted, the forgotten crowd leapt into action. Someone took the horses from her, and then her back was being patted and people were shaking her hand. She nodded and smiled, but as they moved on to check on the stagecoach passengers, she slipped out the crowd, and out of sight.

Naturally, being the centre of attention in a new town no less, was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

⁂

Bags retrieved from the side of the road, the crowd had mostly dissipated – thankfully – when she passed the site of the accident on the way to the saloon. Fragments of wood still lined the side of the road, the stagecoach being manoeuvred round to the blacksmiths. A small part of her screamed to leave town after what had happened, and the attention she had drawn to herself, but she was so tired of moving town. The presence of not one, but two Mountie's stationed in Coal Valley also raised red flags. Keeping her head down would be so much more important with such a large law enforcement presence.

The steps to the saloon doors were dusty and well worn, and she took them slowly, hefting her luggage into one hand so as to open the door. The tables were moderately busy, miners dining after a long hard day. A chalkboard was tucked in one corner, and she raised a brow. The saloon was the school then? A few curious glances looked her way, but there didn't seem to be any recognition. Then again, the men had mostly been in the mine during the time of the accident. The older Mountie pulled from the stagecoach was leaning up against the bar, and she reluctantly joined him, waiting for the barkeeper to be available. He held his shoulder stiffly, and a large bruise marred his cheekbone, but otherwise seemed to be no worse for wear.

"Ma'am," he greeted pleasantly, then seemed to double take, recognising her. "It seems I have you to thank. You managed the horses earlier when the coach overturned?"

Nodding, she attracted the barkeeps attention and pulled out her coin purse. "Yes…are you alright?" she supposed it was only polite.

"Yes, thank you, ma'am. A little banged up, but nothing serious." He took a pause and offered a hand. "Constable Patrick O'Reilly at your service. I'm the new Mountie stationed here."

"Pleasure."

The hand dropped as the barkeeper finally joined them, and she requested a room in the above hotel, counting out the coins for a few nights to start. It would give her enough time to decide whether or not to stay.

"New to town yourself?" Patrick O'Reilly glanced down at her bags.

"Yes, travelling at the moment, looking for work," she paused. She needed to give just enough information so as not to seem suspicious, but not so much that could be interpreted as a lie. "I couldn't work in my old job any longer. Wasn't where I wanted to go with my life."

The Constable nodded, seemingly understanding. "So who am I thanking?" he inquired, just as the barkeeper requested her name for his records.

"It's Miss Greenwood. Caroline Greenwood." She finally offered her own hand. "And don't think anything of it."

She picked up her bags and scooped up her room key. As she turned and walked away the barkeeper called after her.

"Welcome to Coal Valley, Miss Greenwood!"

⁂

Barely dawn when she woke, Caroline threw the covers back and splashed her face with water in the small bowl placed on the dresser. The frosted mirror showed her oval face was drawn, and her dark blonde hair resembled a bird's nest. Pinching her cheeks in an attempt to regain some colour, she dressed, favouring a pair of wide legged trousers over a skirt. Unpacking the rest of her clothes into the aforementioned dresser and tucking her prized leather-bound album under the items in the bottommost drawer, Caroline cast her eyes around the room as the rising sun slowly brightened it. Spying the door leading to the balcony, she let herself out into the fresh morning air. The street below was already moderately busy, and leaning against the rail, crossing her ankles behind her, she relished the bustle of community below. It wasn't long before a figure she recognised appeared from beneath the veranda of the building adjacent. It was a Mountie, but not Constable O'Reilly. The slimmer frame and broad shoulders told her it was the younger man, who had been working on prying the stagecoach door open whilst she'd calmed the horses. He headed across the street to a building labelled _Abigail's Cafe_ which had already seen its fair share of foot traffic throughout the morning. The tempting smell of bacon and freshly baked goods prompted a grumble of protest from her stomach and Caroline reluctantly pushed back from the railing to head back into her room. She pulled just a few necessities – her empty canteen, a leftover apple, and her headscarf among them – into a saddle bag, and left the room locked behind her. When she descended the stairs into the saloon, it was much quieter than the previous evening. The only figure present was a woman, someone she recognised as a bystander at the accident. Squinting faintly, she knew her to be the one comforting the highborn lady who had arrived on the horse. Currently perched at one of the round tables making up the classroom, the pretty heart shaped face lifted as Caroline dropped down the last few steps.

"Good morning," she greeted pleasantly.

The lady smiled warmly in response, and paused in her writing, "Good morning. We haven't had the pleasure. I'm Elizabeth Thatcher, the schoolteacher here in Coal Valley."

Caroline lifted her lips in response and closed the distance to the table. Elizabeth Thatcher had a lovely, crooked smile, that radiated through her entire face, and she decided there and then that this schoolteacher would make a good ally in this new place.

"Caroline Greenwood. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm sorry to disturb you."

Elizabeth waved her hand as if to brush the comment aside. "Oh, you haven't disturbed me. I'm just doing a little more grading before the school day starts," she paused as if to gauge her nature, before continuing. "So are you just passing through Coal Valley, or hoping to make your home here?"

Screwing up her forehead, Caroline tilted her head thoughtfully. "If I'm being honest, I haven't really decided yet. I don't usually settle anywhere for too long."

A brief expression of intrigue crossed Elizabeth's face, before it was masked with neutral disinterest. It only lasted for a brief second, for she scrunched up her face thoughtfully. "I know you, don't I?"

Caroline baulked. How did this woman know who she was? Caroline didn't know her, she'd never seen her in her life before yesterday. The schoolteacher didn't give her chance to reply however.

"You're horse girl, aren't you?"

Caroline's abrupt relief must have translated as offence to Elizabeth Thatcher, and the woman laughed apologetically, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just so impressed by the way you handled those horses yesterday. Your assistance was invaluable, thank you. You clearly have spent a lot of time around horses…I'm just useless. Children are my area of expertise."

Elizabeth Thatcher waved a hand around the empty saloon, at the writing on the chalkboard and the sheets of paper in front of her.

"Like I told Constable O'Reilly yesterday, there's really no need to thank me. I get the impression anyone around here would've done the same thing."

The schoolteacher smile, agreeing. "Yes, they would have." A content expression crossed her face as if she were recalling a fond memory. "I have a feeling you'll fit right in here, if you do decide to stay."

Caroline merely smiled her accord. "Anyway, I should let you get back to your work. If I could just beg a favour off of you?"

Elizabeth nodded acquiescingly.

"Is the cafe across the street a good place to get a warmed cooked breakfast? And which direction is the livery? I'd like to take out a horse for the day."

"The cafe is owned and run by my good friend Abigail Stanton, tell her I sent you and she'll do a good breakfast on the house for you. Consider it payment for your aid yesterday. As for the livery, it's right out of the saloon and at the end of the street on the right," the schoolteacher replied.

"Much obliged." Caroline dropped her chin briefly and, leaving Elizabeth back to her grading, made her way out the saloon to the cafe.

She had barely closed a hand round the doorknob when it swung open and a tall red figure filled her vision. Coming to an abrupt stop, Caroline threw out a hand to stop herself toppling forward, her only perch being the younger Mounties shoulder. He glanced down with a smirk and with a sufficiently mortified expression she removed her hand like it was on fire.

"Pardon me I'm so sorry." She stepped back out onto the surrounding veranda to allow him past.

"No, my apologies, ma'am. I shouldn't have swung the door so fast, should I?" the Mountie replied.

Bowing her head Caroline shrugged. "If you say so, sir."

She went to head into the cafe, but his shout stopped her.

"Hey! Ma'am! You helped with the horses in the accident yesterday, didn't you?"

Caroline inwardly rolled her eyes. What was it with this town? Everyone really did know everyone, and nobody's business was their own.

"I was there, yes sir."

The Mountie pulled his hat from his head, "Well, ma'am. I'd just like to offer my thanks for your assistance yesterday. It was greatly appreciated."

Yes. you and everyone else it seemed. Caroline swallowed down her attitude and displayed a classic expression of humbleness and graciousness.

"There's really no need to thank me, Constable…?"

"Jack Thornton, ma'am."

"Constable Thornton, I was just doing my civic duty. Now if you'll please excuse me…?"

Leaving a rather surprised expression on the red clad man's face, Caroline made her way into the cafe. Finding an empty table alongside a street side window, a middle-aged blonde woman bustled over, apron adorning her front.

"I won't irritate you any further by expressing my gratitude for your help yesterday," she remarked in jest, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge Caroline.

Laughing genuinely, with a pleasant smile on her face, Caroline met the woman's kind gaze. "Thank you, and you're welcome. Caroline Greenwood. Who was that? I thought I'd already met the Mountie stationed here."

Brief confusion crossed the woman's face. "Oh you mean Jack? He's the Mountie stationed here. If you're referring to Constable O'Reilly who arrived on the stagecoach yesterday, he was just escorting a young lady here for a visit. He's not staying."

Caroline hummed a response, but meanwhile her brain was running a million miles an hour. Constable O'Reilly had told her in the saloon just yesterday evening that this was his new posting, as she'd tried her best to give him a good, but possibly partly false, impression of her. She'd have to start all over again with this Constable Thornton if he were indeed stationed here.

"Anyway, what can I get you?"

Filing her worries away for later, Caroline turned her attention back to the woman in front of her. "Are you Abigail Stanton? Do you own this place? Elizabeth Thatcher sent me over from the saloon, said you'd give me breakfast on the house."

"Yes, I'm Abigail...I didn't realise you knew Elizabeth."

Caroline shook her head vehemently. "Oh I don't. We met in the saloon just now and she sent me over here when I asked where was good to get breakfast. Something about it being as thanks for yesterday."

The two ladies' gazes met, and they burst out laughing at the irony. "Did she now?! Well time I showed you a good Coal Valley welcome then."

⁂

Sometime later, after a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs and strong hot coffee, Caroline let herself back out onto the street. Abigail had been pleasantly kind as she'd introduced herself and eaten the delightful meal. Despite expressing to Elizabeth that morning that she never stayed anywhere long, Caroline could see herself settling here for longer than expected. The community so far seemed cautious but welcoming, even if there was the problem of the Mountie Jack Thornton. Speaking of, he appeared across the street, and stood talking to Elizabeth and the highborn lady from yesterday outside the saloon, as the children filed their way inside to start lessons for the day. As she glanced across, the schoolteacher and the Constable paused in conversation and looked up in her direction across the street. Caroline met the beady gaze of Constable Thornton and quickly looked away, keeping her head down as she made her way to the livery. It didn't take long for the hand to arrange a suitable horse. A quick exchange of coins and he pointed her in the direction of a stall at the end, a chestnut similar to Constable O'Reilly's, but richer in colour and a long white stripe marking the middle of his head. She'd been told his name was Ghost and it didn't take long for her to saddle him up and lead him out to mount. Pulling out her headscarf she drew her long hair back from her face and up into the scarf. A familiar ease and relaxation came over her as she swung herself up into the saddle, and, taking the reins in her right hand, her left resting on her thigh with the excess, she squeezed her calves against the horse's sides and set off out of town towards the lake at a brisk trot.

It was nearly two hours later when Caroline got the distinct feeling she was being followed. After skirting round the lake and making her way through the forest to the foot of the hills at a smart trot, she'd set a nice casual pace, mostly at walk in an effort to enjoy the broadening landscape the higher she'd climbed. Not ten minutes previously Ghost had halted unexpectedly for a moment, his ears pricked forward, and head pointed back in the direction they'd come. Caroline had allowed the brief pause, before squeezing with her calves asking him to move forwards. Although Ghost had walked forward willingly and eagerly, his sudden taking up of the rein contact and more forwards movement had given her the definite impression there was something or someone close by. A brief return to a small patch of woods finally gave her certainty. They just reached the edge of the next expanse of green across the hills when there was the crack of a branch breaking behind. Ghost jumped slightly but a touch from her heels had him breaking into a trot again. When Caroline heard the clear sound of hoof beats matching their pace behind them, she pushed her heels down and, lifting herself out the saddle slightly, urged Ghost into a lope, then a gallop. From their casual pace earlier, he was as fresh as the moment they'd left the livery that morning, and he stretched out easily, covering the ground swiftly. For the first few seconds, until the hoot beats following them at a gallop behind faded a little in the distance, Caroline didn't risk looking back to see who was following. As sweat gathered on the neck of the chestnut beneath her, and the prairie grass was rapidly eaten up in front of them, she convinced herself to glance over her shoulder. To her surprise and partial relief, it was a red clad Mountie bent low over the neck of a black horse struggling to keep pace. Reluctantly, and judging that she wasn't in the danger she thought she was in, the horsewoman sat taller in the saddle, squeezing with her thighs whilst increasing pressure on the reins to slow Ghost down. She was walking, reins long when the black horse came up alongside, Constable Thornton atop. He matched her rein length and twisted in the saddle to face her.

"Constable," she greeted.

"Miss Greenwood is it? Miss Thatcher pointed me out to you earlier after we bumped into each other. Any reason you were riding away from me like the devil himself was chasing you?" Jack Thornton fixed her with the same beady gaze she'd seen across the street that morning.

"I haven't committed any crime if that's what you're concerned about, Constable," Caroline replied indignantly. "You needn't have followed me all the way out here."

"Then let me rephrase, what exactly are you doing all the way out here?"

Whilst they've been talking, Ghost and the Constable's horse have turned to each other and are nuzzling, and Caroline focused on that rather than answering the Mountie. Jack Thornton caught where her gaze had landed and suppressed a laugh.

"Ghost and Sergeant, they're good friends. They're stabled next to each other and turned out to graze together when my schedule allows."

Caroline chuckled in return. "I did wonder why he was more curious than scared about someone following us. That explains it."

"How did you manage to get Ghost anyway? That's Tommy's best horse in the stable. He doesn't hire him out to just anyone." The Mountie leaned across to scratch Ghost's wither, and Caroline softened slightly. At least the man seemed to know and like horses.

"I presented a persuasive argument. I've been around horses since I was born." Internally kicking herself at the little titbit of information she'd let loose about herself, she continued. "He's a good horse. Don't think I've ridden one that can use himself so well in a gallop in a long time."

"That he certainly can. So, now we've diverted from the topic at hand, care to answer my question?"

Caroline released a deep sigh and rubbed the patch on Ghost's wither where the Constable's hand had previously been.

"My family has had some trouble in the past. Nothing criminal on their part, but I've been on the run in the past…before the appropriate people were brought to justice." She swallowed uncomfortably, memories she'd long since buried surfacing unwanted. "It was just a reaction, that's why I stopped as soon as I saw it was you. I was honestly up here just enjoying the scenery, getting to know the area, and there's nothing I love more than horses and riding."

Jack Thornton looked sceptical, if slightly concerned, but seemed to accept her explanation. With a shaky hand, Caroline gripped the reins more firmly and took up a stronger contact.

"Well, I'm heading back to town, Miss Greenwood. Care to accompany me?"

"No, thank you, Constable. I'm going to stay up here a bit longer," she fixed him with a withering gaze. "I'll be back before curfew though."

She thought she finally saw a hint of amusement in his eyes, and, smiled warmly as he tilted his head respectfully, reining Sergeant round in the opposite direction and pushing him into an easy lope towards Coal Valley.

⁂

It was with great reluctance that Caroline let herself into the Mercantile two mornings later. Her coin supply was running low yet she needed food and a replacement buckle for her well loved saddlebag. Ned Yost was bustling behind the counter sorting freshly arrived telegraphs into their respective slots. A skim along the shelves and she gathered freshly made bread and canned meat. The store empty, she placed her items on the counter and pulled out her coin purse to pay, smiling at the owner in greeting. As she was debating over the closest matching buckle to the one still remaining, or whether to just splash out and purchase a matching pair, the door to the Mercantile swung open. The red-haired lady who had ridden into town behind the stagecoach entered, and immediately bustled over with enthusiastic friendliness.

"Mr Yost! Good to see you!"

Ned Yost smiled and nodded in return but focused on serving Caroline, as she finally selected two matching gold buckles, with the intention to replace both for longevity. The red head leant over her choices and crowed approval. Caroline smiled weakly with smothered confusion, overwhelmed at the confident and bubbly person present. Her emotions must have been poorly hidden for the lady addressed her directly.

"I'm sorry! Nosey me. I'm Julie, Julie Thatcher."

"Any relation to Elizabeth Thatcher?" Caroline answered politely, remembering the two women had been stood together during the stagecoach crash.

"She's my sister. I'm just visiting her for a few days as nobody in Hamilton had seen her since she took this teacher position out here." The sister rolled her eyes as she explained. "I honestly can't believe she's surviving out here. Did you know she burnt down the teacherage on her first night here? And that was after her stagecoach was robbed and her belongings stolen."

Caroline couldn't help but laugh at that. Maybe Julie wasn't so bad after all once you got used to her.

"Yes, the West can be a dangerous place. But the folk here are lovely and so welcoming, I'm not surprised she settled into the life and stayed," Caroline responded, wondering if maybe the sentiment couldn't relate to her as well, albeit in a different way.

She placed the few coins Ned Yost handed to her as change into her purse and gathered her purchases into her saddlebag. Julie watched with fascination at her meagre selection but smiled as Caroline met her gaze unashamedly.

"You're right of course…?" Julie trailed off as Caroline realised she'd never introduced herself in return.

"Caroline, Caroline Greenwood. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Thatcher."

"And you, Miss Greenwood." Caroline reached the door and swung it open to the clatter of the street below. "Have a nice day."

"I hope I'll see you around," Caroline replied genuinely.

The door banged shut behind her, and as she tightened her grip on the leather in her hands, a faint smile graced her lips. Maybe this town wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
